


The Light Slowly Creeps In

by AngeNoir



Series: Write-Away Giveaway 2 Fills [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony's never asked for Steve to come early for their daily walk before. And yeah, Steve's getting ready to leave for college, and Tony's not, and Steve's been busy with his friends for the past few months, but still, they always have their daily walks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light Slowly Creeps In

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another picture prompt from the beautiful IrisAya, based on this [picture](http://distilleryimage4.ak.instagram.com/eb833194c3e711e1985822000a1d011d_7.jpg).
> 
> The exact prompt is as follows:
> 
> _In highschool, Steve and Tony talk walks together, like clock-work, just as they have since they were kids._

“I’m going out,” Steve shouted, grabbing his copy of the house keys and shoving his phone into his back pocket.

“Everything okay? You’re leaving a bit early today, aren’t you?” his mother called back, but Steve was dashing out the door and letting the screen fall shut behind him.

But he _was_ leaving earlier than normal. It was his senior year in high school, in a town he’d lived in since he was six years old and his mother left his abusive father and traveled back to her home town. At six, he had not really wanted to leave his school and his friends, but he knew that the way his daddy treated mommy wasn’t right. It had made it only marginally easier for him to accept that he could never go back to Mrs. Johnson’s class, but he was good at making friends, even that young. He’d slotted in to the school here without much fuss, but he’d missed his old friends enough that when he stumbled upon the park and saw the paths by the pond, he’d insisted that his mom take him there every day and he would make up grand adventures searching for his lost friends along the bank of the pond.

And it was at that park, by the pond’s edge, that he’d met Tony.

Tony was three to Steve’s seven, but he was different from other kids. He spoke in complete sentences and talked way too much, too fast. Other kids ignored him, and in fact, Steve first met Tony because he was muttering to himself, crouched on the bank of the pond, trying not to sniffle too loudly.

Since that fateful afternoon, Steve determinedly dragged his mother back to the pond at that exact same time, which apparently was the same time that Tony’s nanny brought Tony to the park, and they would run down the path by the pond, skipping rocks or discussing whether the pond was large enough to hold a small loch ness monster or defending the world from invading aliens or hunting for frogs and tadpoles in the rocks and brush just inside the pond.

(They fell in quite a few times, too.)

They hadn’t stopped their walks, not even when Tony started school at the age of four and was stuck in the class directly below Steve, in second grade and in truth doing third grade math and science lessons that he helped explain to Steve using stick drawings in the mud. Tony was a genius, Steve slowly learned, and his mouth got away from him quite a few times. Tony was bullied, and when Steve found out he tried desperately to intervene, to figure out who and why and when, but Tony was fiercely independent and refused to tell Steve anything, which only made Steve search out bullies and stand up for _everyone_ he could (because honestly, if he caught them bullying and he and Tony went to the same school they _could have_ bullied Tony).

Of course, Steve was a scrawny asthmatic kid who could barely throw a ball halfway across the court, let along swing a bat or lob a dodge ball. He wasn’t doing so well, either, at least not until Bucky stepped in, and then puberty had done the rest.

James Buchanan Barnes, best friends with Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, had helped protect Steve until puberty gave Steve broad shoulders and powerful muscles. Steve easily fell into Bucky’s little group from the moment Bucky chased off bullies that had cornered fifth-grader Steve. Soon enough, the group expanded, not so little anymore with Sam Wilson, and Sharon and Peggy Carter, and Brock Rumlow. Steve began spending less time with Tony at recess, and when Steve moved into middle school while Tony remained in elementary, the break seemed all the more definite. Oh, it wasn’t as if Steve _hadn’t_ tried to include Tony in the group; it was just that he and Bucky got along horribly, he and Clint got along too well, Brock hated having him tag along (Steve worried that Brock was needlessly petty to Tony, but Tony never said anything and Steve could find no _proof_ ), and the girls babied him and that annoyed Tony. So Steve set aside an hour each day where he’d go to the park and meet up with Tony, every day of the week, rain or shine, snow or sleet. Tony complained about having to deal with the weather, but since if it was _really_ bad, Steve just dragged Tony to the local bowling alley and split a gigantic sundae with Tony while they talked about their day with one another, he put up with it. Certainly Steve’s mother had always welcomed Tony in her house – especially since, by the time Tony was seven and in fourth grade, he didn’t have a nanny anymore and instead walked himself to the park and school.

Today, though, it was a warm April day in Steve’s last semester, and Tony could technically graduate at the same time if he wanted to ( _I don’t, Steve, fuck, why would I want to be more of a freak, I’m already a sophomore at thirteen, let me be at least fifteen and driving when I go to MIT_) but because he wasn’t graduating, Steve was trying to get in as much time with him as possible. Tony had been distant the past month – they still met up, of course, but his chatter was subdued, his manner oddly quiet. And now, today, Steve had gotten a text from Tony, asking if they could meet an hour earlier than they normally met, at the usual place.

Hence, the rush.

Steve got to the pond in record time, and their usual meet-up was around five PM, so it was almost four-thirty when Steve skidded to a stop by the sandy path and the tall cattails that swayed in the light breeze. Looking around, though, he didn’t see Tony anywhere, and he frowned a little. Tony had never been late before, and he’d specifically requested that Steve be there as soon as possible…

After a few minutes, Steve sighed and decided he’d walk further down the bank of the pond, picking up flat stones and idly skipping them across the tranquil surface. It was luck more than anything that had him noticing that there was a flash of blue in the middle of a bush.

He was really too tall for this, but he and Tony used to do this as kids all the time, so he got down on his hands and knees and gingerly made his way underneath the bush.

There, Tony was, half on his back and half on his side (his torso on his back but his lower body twisted to the side), eyes closed, face tilted up so the light breeze that rustled the leaves caught against his eyelashes – clumped with tears, Steve realized, which made him increase his pace and simultaneously move fast enough to snap a branch and send it onto Tony’s face.

Tony jerked and his eyes flew open. Wincing, Steve waved a hand awkwardly. “Sorry, sorry,” he said quietly, shifting again and slowly lowering himself down to his side. His legs stuck out – Tony had his lower body curled up so it fit under the clump of bushes that once hid them completely when they were children. “You called me to—”

“Did you get your college acceptance letters already?” Tony asked, closing his eyes again.

Steve felt an ache in his chest as he realized he’d blabbed about which colleges he was applying to, but hadn’t told Tony which acceptances had come through. “Y-yeah, yeah, I did. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Tony said softly. “You’ve got a month left of school. You sticking around for the summer?”

Steve lit up. “Yeah, yeah, I am – I thought we could maybe go on a road-trip or something, one last hurrah before – before I have to leave.”

Tony suddenly twisted and his fingers buried in Steve’s shirt, hiding his face against Steve’s chest. Shocked, Steve didn’t do anything at all for a moment, but when Tony began to shake, Steve put his arms around Tony’s shoulders and hugged him tight.

“Jarvis passed away. Car accident. Dead when the cops got there,” Tony choked out against Steve’s throat.

Steve was completely stunned. Jarvis wasn’t a nanny, not in the way that the hired women who seemed to change every week were – Jarvis was as close to Tony as Tony’s family. Closer, in most respects; Jarvis raised him, stayed with him when Tony’s parents went overseas, drove Tony to his science tournaments and took Steve and Tony out for ice cream after Steve’s football games. To think that Jarvis was just – _gone_ —

“Mom and Dad decided that I would test out early, and start college. I start at MIT this summer,” Tony sobbed against Steve’s chest. “And it was the last chance I got before you left and now I _won’t have it_ , and Jarvis – Jarvis is _gone_ , Steve, I can’t lose y – I can’t do this, we leave in a week, I can’t, Steve, _I can’t_ —”

“Tony – Tony, I accepted at RISD,” Steve said suddenly. “I got in and am going to RISD. Rhode Island School of Design. I’m going there.”

Tony pulled back, and he looked so devastated that Steve pulled him close, sat up (poked himself in the face with the bush’s branches), pulled Tony into his lap. “I’m not going far. I’ll be like, an hour? Two? How far away is Rhode Island from Massachusetts, you’ve been there before.”

“I don’t—” Tony’s breath hitched, and he clutched at Steve’s shoulders. “I’ll miss our walks.”

Strangely enough, it was that, that small sentence, soft and confused and tired, that started Steve crying, and he clutched Tony tight back, tried to calm himself. “Oh god, Tony, I’m so sorry. When’s – when’s the funeral?”

Tony’s shoulders hitched again, and he said shakily, “I don’t – I don’t know. Dad’s flying in his family. They’re organizing everything. I don’t – I want to go.”

“Of course you do, and I’ll take you to it if your dad won’t. We’ll talk to them, or I’ll talk to them for you, would you like that?”

Tony nodded against Steve’s chest.

“You – we’ll skype. Every day. At this same time, okay? No road trip, I’ll stick around close to home. It’ll keep mom happy. And we’ll still have our walks, okay? We’ll – I can facetime. And walk around the pond. And you can be with me still. Okay?”

Jerkily, Tony nodded, and he tried for a weak smile. “I don’t – thank you. For coming.”

“I’ll always come, for you. _Always_ , Tony. Okay? You’re my – my closest friend. My best friend.” Tentatively, Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

And – the thing is, Steve and Tony had been edging towards something more. Edging towards each other, their orbit getting tighter and tighter as they danced around the unspoken tension between them. So it wasn’t – wasn’t that big a surprise when Tony hesitated, and slowly twisted his head – giving Steve time to pull away if he wanted – and slotted his lips against Steve’s.

And it wasn’t perfect – how could it be, with what had led up to it? Steve tasted Tony’s tears, Tony’s lips were raw and chapped, Tony was still making little hitching sighs as he tried to stop crying, and leaves and twigs were poking at both of them. But it was – the beginning of something new. Something bigger than the both of them.

This pond, and this place, was _theirs_ , and Steve was fiercely glad that he wasn’t going to have to wait a whole year before Tony moved to MIT. Selfishly, he was glad that Tony would get out from under his parents, and they would be able to go through college together.

Hugging Tony tighter, Steve murmured, “We’ll get through this, okay? I’m here, Tony. I’m here.”


End file.
